Through the Woods
by bokhi
Summary: Mai is not Little Red Riding Hood and this is not a fairy tale. Vague NaruMai, MaiNaru highly experimental. Expect much strangeness.
1. little red riding hood

Notes: Spoiler warning for those who do not know the identity of Dr. Davis.

I initially sat down to write something completely different, but this is what came out. No, I don't know where this came from, either. Warnings for pretentious writing and general messed up shit. No, really.

Summary: Mai is not Little Red Riding Hood and red is not her colour. Vaguely NaruMai, MaiNaru. Dark.

Through the Woods

(little red riding hood)

First, there is The Girl. Oliver is a scientist, but even scientists are familiar with literary traditions and social expectation, and he'd grown up in England, for the love of God, so of course he knows what fairy tales are. He knows four different variations of _Little Red Riding Hood_, three of _Cinderella_ (and honestly, they tell these stories to little children? To little girls? What were they thinking?) and he doesn't care for them, any of them, not one wit, because there is nothing witty about stories of girls going into the forest to be raped, stories of girls cutting away the bits of themselves that don't fit into a gilded shoe.

And it's always a girl. It's always a girl, a sweet, fresh-faced girl who is young, so young, and she's always got such a pretty smile, a slice of kindness for everyone; she is a clumsy, coltish thing, still wriggling in her new skin, too old to be sheltered but too young to know any better (do not stop off the path or talk to strange wolves; good advice is lost to girls whose hearts live in the sky).

She is always a young, wide-eyed kind-hearted thing, the kind of girl that never lasts long in a forest full of trees and shadows and even though she's got a temper and a voice to match it, in the end it means nothing at all; once in the belly of the wolf, there is no one to hear her screaming.

And when Oliver looks at Mai, he only sees Mai; he doesn't think of wolves and forests and misplaced kindness and even though she is wearing red today, he only thinks, _red is not a good colour on you_, but doesn't bother saying so (he barks, "tea!" and Mai makes a face and leaves in a half-huffy kind of way to do his bidding). And when Mai leaves the office at five-forty in the evening, passing under his office window, there is no reason for him to glance around the street for a flash of grey fur on human legs and human feet – because Mai doesn't remind him of wolves and trees and silly pretty girls in red.

There is no reason to look. Oliver sips his tea and resumes his paper work. He thinks, _red is not a good colour on you_, but he doesn't know why he cares. The shadows crawl up the walls of his office as the sun disappears under the sill of his window, but Oliver is too busy reading to notice.


	2. once upon a time

(once upon a time)

The fourth voice came out of the darkness like a prophecy from Delphi. "Deathi," he said, and then the lights had flickered on and if Mai had been the type for dramatics, she would have thought, _he is dressed in black,_ and then again, _what a strange, pale, boy you are, coming out of the darkness like a wraith – _but all she thought was, _oh, so it is just a boy after all_. And of course it was just a boy, a skinny, pale skinned boy dressed all in black, as though he'd just come in from a funeral and when he stepped into the room, she had to roll her eyes in exasperation because Michiru – and Keiko too! – were already fawning over him, falling at the feet of a stranger (four, he'd said, four). Mai wasn't sure whether to be amused or alarmed, but she watched him all the same until –

-- the yellow lighting made his eyes glint strangely, she thought, and she felt the hairs at the nape of her neck prickle. He was smiling, all white teeth and smooth, soothing voice and there was something odd about the was he was insinuating himself into -

-- he wasn't smiling.

Mai stared at his blue, gem-cut eyes until he glanced up, looked at her until she had to turn her face away.

But even so, it didn't occur to Mai to object when he agreed to a little rendezvous, ghost stories in the dark. He was just a boy, after all, for all that he was dressed for a funeral.

* * *

i For those who are unaware, the Japanese word "Shi" can mean both "four" and "death". As a result, people usually prefer to use the word "yon" (for "four") rather than "shi". In the first episode, Naru walks into the countdown saying "shi", which presumably was him filling in the blanks, but his use of "shi" as opposed to "yon" leaves room for exploitation (by unscrupulous fanficcers, hahahah – though really, he was probably making a joke or, more likely, was unaware of the connotations). 


	3. there once was a little village girl

(there was a little village girl, the prettiest that had ever been seen[i)

Oliver is not impressed. If anything, he's annoyed (Lin is tough, Lin can handle a cut or two or even three; he tells himself this as he checks for broken bones) because that girl (Taniyama Mai, she says, and her voice also fails to impress because it is unsurprising, wholly expected; childish like the rest of her) and her excuses are kind of pissing him off.

Oliver dislikes idiots. He has her pegged as one even before she starts speaking, and thus dislikes her on principle. Of course it has little to do with the fact that Lin is bleeding and limping and that a very expensive camera is lying broken on the ground with the lens completely out of its socket (how exactly, had she managed that one? He doesn't want to know, because doing so would mean thinking like an idiot) and the day has barely started and it's already going downhill. Thank you very much, Miss Taniyama Mai. Would you like to break my ankle on your way out too? He thinks this in a disinterested, absent kind of way, because he has more important things to worry about than his own wit (Lin can't stand. This is not a good sign. A doctor would be nice, right about now), and because regardless of what Madoka says (and what Lin doesn't say), he's learned all his manners like a good little boy, and sometimes he even chooses to use them. And judging by the way she's wringing her hands, she's not only an idiot, she's an earnest idiot, which also happens to be worst kind of idiot to deal with. Best to get her out of the way, then.

She's gone from his mind the moment she darts out the door. Later, Lin says that he'd run in to save the camera from an untimely death. Oliver knows better than to mention that the camera is quite comfortable in its grave, a travel case to be shipped back to the manufacturing company for the sake of insurance claims. Taniyama Mai, on the other hand, is wholly unharmed and nowhere near an untimely death.

But Oliver and Lin are cut – not from the same cloth – but two bolts of fabric of a similar vein; Oliver says nothing, and Lin keeps his silence when Oliver hires one Taniyama Mai as a temporary assistant.

The principle agrees this is an excellent idea. Oliver watches Mai out of the corner of his eye, smiling and nodding her two friends confess a sudden distaste for ghost stories, and thinks, _an earnest idiot also happens to be the most useful kind of idiot._

* * *

[i From Charles Perrault's "Little Red Riding Hood", as told in _Folk and Fairy Tales, 3rd Ed_. Edited by Martin Hallett and Barbara Karasek. 


	4. everywhere she went by the name

(and everywhere she went by the name Little Red Riding Hood)

"Mai!"

"Mai!"

Mai turned. Michiru and Keiko stood at the bench, waving her over. Smiling, Mai jogged lightly over the pavement.

"You're late," Michiru scolded, and Mai gave a sheepish little shrug. She'd slept right through her alarm clock. Keiko rolled her eyes as Michiru opened her mouth to launch into what would undoubtedly be another lecture on the virtues of punctuality, and nipped it in the bud by flinging one arm around her shoulders; the other found its way around Mai, and she half-marched them into the direction of the school-yard.

"Yeees," Keiko drawled, "and we're the idiots that actually sat around waiting for her. We'll all be taking lessons in punctuality if we don't get going _right now_." And she tilted her head to the side to wink at Mai, a swift, hidden gesture between co-conspirators of…something. Mai could only roll her eyes and knit her brows in affectionate consternation. Michiru valiantly pretended not to notice.

They went to school like that, the three of them with their arms around the other. They went together under the cherry-trees, dark wood and flowers around them. Blossoms fell like snow and left a soft pink carpet on the ground. There was no sound against the pavement to mark their passing.

…..

"Mai-chan." There was a _scritch_ as tape was ripped off its roll. Mai glanced up from her folding. Sensei finished taping the last box shut. She labelled it in her clean, careful writing: "Pots, pans, cutlery." Around them, the living room was littered with moving boxes, all labelled (Sensei's doing; she claimed it would be much easier to settle in this way, after the moving) and these were the last two things, the box of pots, pans, cutlery, and Mai's travel case full of her clothes. Sensei's slim, graceful fingers pressed the tape flat against the cardboard, smoothing away bubbles and bumps.

Finally, Mai said, "Sensei?" Sensei was a woman in her mid-thirties, unlovely and unwed. She made her udon noodles a bit too thick and her miso a bit too salty, but Mai knew she would miss it by the end of the week, when she moved into her own little apartment complex a good thirty minutes away on foot. She made wonderful chocolate chip cookies. Mai would miss those, too.

Sensei didn't look up from the box for a long moment. She took a breath and paused, and Mai knew what came next wasn't what she'd meant to say at all. "Remember to drop by once in awhile," she said. "You're the only excuse I have to bake any cookies." Mai laughed.

"Of course," she said, and Sensei finally looked up at her and smiled.

"I'll be expecting you, Mai-chan."

Later, Sensei took Mai to her new apartment, driving ahead of the moving van with the ease of years of practice. She held her tightly for a moment as they stood in the threshold of the apartment door, and Mai hugged her back, tightly; she whispered a thank-you and watched from the window as her Sensei walked out into the night to her car.

Alone in her room, Mai could still feel the warmth of Sensei's sweater pressed against her cheek. She hugged her pillow to her chest as she slept.

…..

"Taniyama-san," he said, "do you have a moment?" Shibuya's eyes were a brilliant blue, like cut glass behind a display window. Mai almost shrank back a little – almost – but her trepidation swiftly morphed into irritation as Michiru and Keiko shot her disgruntled looks when they thought she wasn't looking.

"Ye-es," she said, reluctantly, and tried to ignore the look that passed between her two best friends. Undoubtedly, this would have something to do with the…incident…this morning. Mai suppressed a shudder. Technically, it was her fault. It was time to suck it up and face the music. Keiko shot her a look that clearly said, _how did this happen, you lucky girl?_ and Mai rolled her eyes in exasperation. Of course they'd take it that way. Mai would have gladly traded places.

Shibuya stepped out, his gait precise but languid with some innate confidence; he didn't even look back, sure she'd follow. Defeated, Mai trailed behind him, looking something like a scolded puppy. Mai cast one, last despairing look at her friends (Michiru, Keiko, save me!), lingering in the doorway until Shibuya paused and called over his shoulder: "Taniyama-san." Mai startled, then scrambled to follow. His voice had been calm, patient – but it had sent her pulse beating softly against the skin of her throat because it had been a command she followed.

Note: Once again, the title came from Martin Hallett and Barbara Karasek's version of Little Red Riding Hood (Charles Perrault) found in Folk and Fairy Tales, 3rd edition.

Thank you to those who reviewed. Despite appearances, I do appreciate feedback. So, thanks.


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